


He's Kind of a Big Deal

by argyros (argentumluna), ken_ichijouji (dommific)



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Background Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov - Freeform, Bangkok, Fame, Food, Long-Haired Katsuki Yuuri, Other, Phichit Deserves Only Good Things, Phichit's Paprika Colored Mini Cooper, Sponsorships, Thailand, markets, thailand's future zine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-12
Updated: 2018-10-12
Packaged: 2019-07-29 18:20:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16269764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/argentumluna/pseuds/argyros, https://archiveofourown.org/users/dommific/pseuds/ken_ichijouji
Summary: Yuuri is finally coming to Bangkok to visit with Victor and Makkachin in tow. At the very beginning of their visit, though, Phichit realizes he may have understated his status as a Thai Celebrity.For Thailand's Future: a tribute to Phichit Chulanont.





	He's Kind of a Big Deal

**Author's Note:**

>   
>  Art by Luna, Prose by Dommi

When Yuuri said he was coming to Bangkok with Victor once the season ended (and as a multi-week layover of sorts before flying to Hasetsu), Phichit jumped at the chance to host. When they lived together in Detroit, they always promised to show each other their hometowns.

It took seven years, but the time has finally arrived.

They flew Emirates from St. Petersburg to Bangkok with a two hour layover in Dubai. Phichit checks the time; he has ten minutes to leave or he’ll be late. Once he sits in the driver’s seat and opens his moon roof, the paprika colored Mini Cooper zips down the highway until he reaches the airport. Victor always packs like he’s moving in, so Phichit knows they’ll need his spare hands for their belongings. He waits by the bag claim with a smile.

After killing time with a few selfies, he spots Victor easily since he’s got thirteen centimeters on the other travelers. “Victor! Yuuri!” Phichit calls.

Victor smiles when he sees him. “Phichit!” he exclaims as he accelerates his walking speed, careful not to mow anyone down. Yuuri is a few meters behind him, his shoulder-length hair in a messy half-bun. He gives a lot of confused looks at the scenery, though Phichit isn’t sure why. Airports are universal constants—simultaneously liminal spaces as well as utterly benign and ordinary. Victor hugs Phichit after pushing his LV bag out of the way.

Yuuri catches up, but his gaze is over Phichit’s head. “What?”

Returning to Earth, Yuuri blinks. “The…entire walkway from our gate to here is your face,” he manages in a bewildered voice.

Phichit laughs. “Oh yeah. That’s my tourism bureau welcome campaign. They asked me to do a series, one per season, for the next five years. Am I at the Rocket Festival?”

“Uh—yeah,” Yuuri says. “I guess?”

Phichit grins. “They’re about to swap them out, I think. The next series is at a floating market or maybe the ones featuring the elephants, I forget. We shot, like, twelve.”

“Wow!” Victor says.

“…Okay.” Yuuri hands Phichit his Mizuno backpack. They go to the luggage carousel, get their bags and Makkachin before loading into Phichit’s car.

Yuuri brushes a stray lock of hair off his face. “Will we all fit?”

“For sure,” Phichit answers as he pops the trunk. The car is one of his great loves—it’s brand new, a Type S with a 6-speed transmission, and there are sweet black racing stripes from tailgate to hood. He plays Tetris packing the car and then they’re set. “Climb in.”

Makkachin sits in the back with Yuuri, since Victor’s long legs mean he needs shotgun. Phichit drives with the windows down and the moon roof open, pays the attendant, and zooms to his house like he’s racing. The glowing neon of Bangkok looms ahead like a shining beacon shouting hello.

Digital billboards greet them, and Yuuri chokes at four in succession. “Uh—“ he says.

“Hm?” Phichit asks over the music. His car has Satellite radio, and he’s chosen the Thai Top 100 station for this drive. The notes of Khalid fill the car as he maneuvers through the city. “Did you want to go home first or eat?”

“Eat,” Victor says before Yuuri can contribute. “I’m starving…the meal service on our last flight feels like it was years ago!”

“Okay, we’ll drop your bags off and then take the train to my spot,” Phichit answers. He pulls into his building and parks in his assigned space.

They use the lifts to the sixth floor, putting away the luggage and letting Makkachin roam. Victor and Yuuri have their own bathroom in addition to a bedroom at the opposite end the condo so the couple won’t think they’re in his way. Phichit texts Ciao Ciao before calling his chef friend Tee about them being squeezed in fordinner. Ciao Ciao sends his affirmative, and Tee gives them a confirmation for a little less than an hour.

Perfect.

“Okay, we’re good on dinner, and Ciao Ciao’s coming,” Phichit says with a smile and a thumbs up. “We have to head out though, or else we’ll be late. We don’t want to do that; if Tee’s got his prawn and truffle dish on the menu tonight and we miss it, we’ll be sorry.”

Victor perks up like his own dog does when she hears the word walk. “I love all of those words, but especially together.”

Phichit pats him on the shoulder. “I knew you would, buddy. Yuuri? Did you want to wash up first?”

Yuuri wipes his glasses on his t-shirt. “I’m okay but…why is your face everywhere?”

“Well I’m right in front of you,” Phichit jokes.

“The billboards,” Yuuri clarifies. “The print posters. The television commercials I walked by in the airport. You’re everywhere.”

Oh.

Phichit shrugs. “I’m kind of a big deal.”

Yuuri’s wide-eyed stare is hilarious. Victor looks at Phichit with complete understanding and respect.

“I’m the first Thai figure skater to medal at Worlds, Four Continents, and the Grand Prix Final. I always win my Nationals, too. Not to mention that Phichit!!! On Ice has increased the Thai fanbase of figure skating a fake sounding percent like 40000. As a result, a lot of companies based here put me in their campaigns. The tourism bureau loves me. I’m drowning in swag like my favorite shrimp chips, sparkling water, and rum. It’s _fantastic_.”

Yuuri looks less like a scared owl. “Okay.”

“Come on, we’ll be late,” Phichit says as he links arms with each half of the Katsuforovs. Ciao Ciao is already there having a drink, and they take the Sky Train, walking from the Silom stop to _La Table de Tee._

“Phichit!” shout the hosts. “Are these your friends?”

“Yes, visiting from St. Petersburg,” Phichit says with a grin. “Katsuki Yuuri and his husband, Victor Nikiforov.”

The hostess nods at Phichit. “Welcome _Phichit’s Friend_ and _Phichit’s Friend’s Husband._ ”

Victor has never looked so pleased in his whole life.

Yuuri opens his mouth, but Ciao Ciao’s appearance silences him. “Yuuri! I’m happy to see you both!”

Smiling, Yuuri bows before Ciao Ciao hugs him with one arm. “Hi.”

Ciao Ciao and Victor exchange pleasantries as they are seated. A bottle of red wine sits with four glasses in the center. “Compliments of Tee,” the server says with a smile.

Paper menus on the table list the week’s offerings—tiger prawns and galangal to start followed by wild duck with a wine reduction, a haute cuisine Massaman curry risotto, snapper with ginger, foie gras stuffed pork with five spice, beef with a garlic and onion jus, chocolate and hazelnut fondant mousse, and a vanilla custard to finish.

“We can hit up the food stalls too, if you want,” Phichit offers to his guests. “I’m usually dying of starvation after a long trip.”

“Same here!” Victor says. “I want to try everything! I’ve never been here before — the country I mean, not just Bangkok!”

The courses begin shortly with Yuuri labeled _Phichit’s Friend_ and Victor _Phichit’s Friend’s Husband_ throughout the meal. Victor never stops being delighted by this, showing off the matching bands he wears on his right hand and making sure Yuuri shows his, too.

Phichit makes a point to take artistic photos of each course, since he knows how much Tee appreciates it. Yuuri glances up at a black and white photograph above their heads with a forkful of pork close to his lips before he freezes and stares.

“What?” Phichit asks before he cranes his neck and looks up. “Oh, I forgot.”

The photograph is Phichit in mid-spin during his first Grand Prix Final appearance — he’s in the blue and white costume from _Terra Incognita_ , and his face is poised yet determined. The arc of his body is elegant, like a stone smoothed and carved by a slow trickle of water across thousands of years. The piece is from a series called  _Thailand’s Future_ by Haruehun Airry. This one didn’t make the final cut for a pictorial of Thai athletes, but Airry decided it met his standards enough to sell.

“I’m—“

Yuuri cuts Phichit off. “A big deal. I get it.”

Ciao Ciao laughs, loud and robust. “You get used to it after a while, though sometimes I’m still caught off guard by that Gucci ad near the rink.”

“The gold one, yeah” Phichit says with a laugh.

“The gold one?” Victor inquires as he sips his wine.

“Gold shades, gold lipstick, gold highlighter and contour care of Rihanna,” Phichit ticks off on his fingers. “It’s a partnership for my winning gold at Four Continents. We decided to go all in. Why do anything halfway?”

“I had a similar campaign with my first Olympic gold,” Victor says. He lowers his voice. “Did you get to keep the sunglasses?”

Phichit beams. “All four pairs! I couldn’t choose. The art director said she wouldn’t tell as long as I didn’t!”

Laughing, Victor raises his glass. “Yuuri keeps the Mizuno gear. Fair is fair.”

Yuuri gives Victor a look full of mildly annoyed affection. When their drinks are topped off, he gets called  _Phichit’s Friend_ again, though this time, he takes it more in stride. He seems to be relaxing, since his shoulders are looser and his smile comes easier.

The meal finishes with the server giving them one last after-dinner drink, and Victor gets out his Aeroflot Citibank card. “As you are hosting us, please allow me to—“

“Ah, _Phichit’s Friend’s Husband_ …” the server says. “Dinner is compliments of Chef Tee.”

Yuuri and Victor look at her like she just told them they ate Makkachin for the third course. “What?”

 

Phichit smiles. “Tell him thank you so much, and that I’ll be sure to post all of the photos on Instagram as always.”

“Absolutely,,” she says. They shake hands and head out.

Yuuri grabs Phichit’s arm. “The food alone cost _seventeen hundred Baht per person_. Phichit!”

“Yeah, I try not to abuse it,” Phichit replies. “But I eat here twice a month if possible—it boosts his business having Thailand’s Most Popular Male Athlete 2015 through 2018 as a regular.”

Yuuri opens his mouth, but Victor nudges him. “Yu-topia and the Ice Castle,” he points out.

Giving him a hesitant smile, Yuuri undoes the bun in his hair, letting it fall around his face. “Yeah, I know. I know.”

Ciao Ciao leads them down the road, which has more signs and advertisements featuring Phichit he doesn’t even typically see anymore. They enter a park and beeline to the food stalls. Ciao Ciao orders pork skewers in his slightly-hesitant Thai. He buys them some beer also; it’s a brand Phichit did an ad in exchange for a _Phichit!!! On Ice_ sponsorship a year ago.

Victor perks up at one vendor’s wares. “Scorpions! I want to eat a scorpion!”

Yuuri turns green. “You’ll brush your teeth before kissing me, right? Because—“

“Grasshopper tastes like fried pig skin,” Ciao Ciao offers as a compromise. He orders some and the vendor smiles with a nod.

When Ciao Ciao hands Victor a bag of them, he bites into one and grins. “You’re right! These are surprisingly good! Yuuri, try them!”

After waving the bag away, Yuuri kind of half-laughs. “No, thanks. I’m still…yeah, I’m not gonna eat those. Brush your teeth and use the mouthwash before we kiss.”

“Yuuri!” Victor complains, one hand pressed to his heart like he’s been shot.

Phichit makes a small noise. “ _Ice. Cold._ ”

Laughing, Yuuri tries to pay but he’s waved off. The vendor replies to him in rapid-fire Thai. “What’s she saying? She spoke too quickly for me to understand.”

“ _Phichit’s Friend and Phichit’s Friend’s Husband eat free tonight_ ,” Phichit translates.

Yuuri shakes his head four times before drinking a third of his beer in one go.

A pleased squeal informs the group Victor likes the grasshoppers more then he previously stated. “ _V’kusno!_  Yuuri, let’s come every year from now on! Free amazing food and drinks, flawless company—what’s not to love?”

A bus speeds by plastered in a large-scale photo of Phichit in a swimsuit for the Amari Phuket luxury hotel. Yuuri ties his hair back again. Phichit notices the mottled bruising under Yuuri’s eyes, and he realizes that Yuuri is really tired, not annoyed or jealous. “Let’s go home, okay? You both probably need to sleep, and I bet your doggo is lonely. I can figure out what to do tomorrow…maybe Amphawa market earlier and Pak Klong Talad after midnight if you can manage them. The temples are best in the early morning, so let’s save those for later, but I want to visit less crowded ones with you — maybe Loha Prasat or Wat Arun. I’ll show you pics and we can plan together.”

“Yeah, sounds good,” Yuuri says.

Phichit puts an arm around his shoulders, the four of them walking back to the train. The return trip is quiet with Yuuri leaning against Phichit while their coaches discuss the upcoming season. Yuuri barely edged Phichit out for gold at 4CC, so they’re in for a friendly fight this coming year.

That’s down the line. Phichit pokes Yuuri’s messy bun. “I’m glad you’re here.”

Yuuri smiles. “I’m glad you’re here too.” Then he points to a sign with Phichit and a Red Bull. “And there.” They zoom past the dealership that gave Phichit his Mini with a big sign featuring him out front. “And there,” he adds with obvious laughter.

Phichit laughs and hugs him again. “Yeah well, I know about Hasetsu’s train station so don’t play.”

Yuuri laughs even louder. “We’re both kind of big deals, I guess.”

Not kind of, Phichit thinks. Not just kind of, not now or ever.


End file.
